


Let Me Feel Your Touch

by Joe_Reaves



Category: Empire Records (1995)
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, Hand porn, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joe_Reaves/pseuds/Joe_Reaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucas watches Joe playing with his drum stick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Feel Your Touch

I swear he's doing this on purpose. Admittedly he doesn't know I'm here so it's probably stretching things to assume he's deliberately trying to provoke me, but it's so blatant. If he isn't doing it for my benefit, I'd like to know who he is doing it for. I move around on the fire escape, trying not to make any noise in case he hears me, and peek into the window again. The office is empty apart from Joe and I sigh in relief. For a moment there I was worried he really did have an audience he was performing for.

Joe stayed late after the store closed to work on the accounts. He's trying to find a way he can afford air conditioning, not that I'm meant to know that, but I was snooping thorough his desk yesterday and found the brochure. From the scribbled notes in the margin I worked out it's not the unit itself he's having trouble with but the work that needs doing on the roof to support it. So he's trying to work out a way to afford it before the warm weather becomes unbearable and we have to spend all summer sweating again, like we did last year.

Anyway, I wanted to see if he'd give me a ride home, so I'm hanging out on the fire escape waiting for him to be done. He thinks I've already left so I have the perfect opportunity to watch him without him noticing. But apparently he's bored with the accounts and for the last ten minutes he's been sitting there fiddling with his drumsticks and smoking his cigar.

I shift uncomfortably. He's not just fiddling with them; he's caressing them. He's running his fingers up and down them, letting the smooth wood slide through his hands. He's all but making love to them; I want him to touch me like that. I've always loved his hands. When I was a child I thought they were large and comforting. They made me feel safe. When I had a nightmare, he would come into my room with a drink of hot chocolate and stroke my back as I drank it. When I was hurt, he would tend to my scrapes and bruises, touching them gently as he put antiseptic on them. His hands were large but still gentle.

Now I'm not a child any more and they don't seem quite so large, but still big enough and you know what they say about a man with big hands. Playing with his drumsticks is his equivalent of doodling on scrap paper. He does it when he's bored or thinking about something. His strong, sure hands stoking the wood, twirling them through his fingers, confident that he won't drop them.

He puts his cigar out and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, and I have to move again to keep him in view. He's stroking one of the drumsticks now in a very suggestive manner and I can't help imagining what it would feel like to have him touching me like that, his hands, calloused from his drum playing, sliding over my skin and controlling my body's reactions the way he controls the sound from his drum kit.

I whimper softly.

He taps the end of the stick against his lips thoughtfully and traces its length with one finger, slowly travelling from one end to the other and then reversing his course. It's not fair that he can make such a simple gesture so erotic. He opens his eyes again and smiles, glancing sideways. I look up to follow his eyes and freeze.

He was doing it deliberately! He can see me in the mirror in the corner of his office. Damn him. Arrogant, obnoxious, overconfident tease. I'm halfway through the window before I'm really aware that I've even moved. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind and then pause. He's smirking at me, this kind of barely there half smile, and he's still stroking that damn drumstick.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I throw myself across the office and grab him, pinning him into his chair as I kiss him hungrily. With a feeling of satisfaction I hear the drumstick clatter to the floor as it falls from his nerveless fingers and then his arms are around me, holding me in place and through the thin material of my shirt I can feel his hands splayed across my back possessively, their warmth seeping through the material and into my chilled skin.

I start to shiver. It was cold out on the fire escape and now that I'm inside his office, sitting on his lap, with his warm body pressed up against mine, I realise how cold I am. Joe pulls back from the kiss and starts rubbing his hands up and down my arms, the intention no longer to tease but to warm.

"You're frozen, Lucas," he scolds me. "You shouldn't have stayed out there so long."

"You knew I was there the whole time?" I ask, surprised. I thought he'd only realised it when I moved.

"I always know," he said softly. "I was hoping this time you'd have the courage to come in and do something about it." He pushes me off his lap and stands up, leading me over towards the couch. "Let me try and warm you up a little," he suggests.

Well I'm certainly not going to say no to an offer like that but I have to ask, "Why were you waiting for me? You know you could have made the first move instead of letting me freeze my ass off."

"That would have been a shame since it's such a nice ass," Joe said with a grin. "I particularly like the way you wiggle it when you dance." He looked a little more serious. "You're a lot younger than me, I'm your boss, and you've lived with me since you were thirteen, Lucas. You had to be the one to do something."

I sigh. "I guess, but you're too honourable for your own good; we could have been doing this months ago if you hadn't waited for me. And what about Jane? You took her out to dinner three weeks ago."

Joe ducked his head slightly, letting his hair fall forward. "I was trying to spur you into doing something. You're very stubborn."

There's nothing I can say to that so I kiss him again. Joe is a wonderful kisser. I really don't know how he manages to make such a mess of all his relationships with women, he must just pick really strange women. I've never seen him date a guy before ... My doubts must be showing on my face and I can feel him tensing up. This is stupid. I know Joe would never hurt me, it doesn't matter why he wants me, why he loves me, it's enough that he does. We can talk about this later.

"I love you," I tell him, putting a finger on his lips to stop him replying. "I don't need to hear it back right now. You're terrible about telling people how you feel. Just keep showing me and that's all I need." I smile up at him and the tension eases from his face.

He moves us around on the couch so that I'm leaning back against his chest with his arms around me. "Then just relax and let me show you," he whispers in my ear.

He presses a gentle kiss to my temple and then brushes his hand over my face, encouraging me to close my eyes. He traces the length of my nose with a finger and then strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. My skin feels alive and goosebumps spring up in the wake of every gentle touch. I never knew my face could be so sensitive. He outlines one of my ears and I shiver, which makes him laugh. Leaning forward, he replaces his finger with his tongue and slowly explores the curve of my ear before gently taking the lobe between his teeth.

I can feel my breath speeding up and I clench my hands to stop myself reaching out and touching him. Next he runs his hand along my throat, curving it around. I could feel so vulnerable right now with his large hand wrapped around my throat, but I don't. Not only because he's being careful not to put any pressure on it but because he's Joe and I trust him completely.

His hands skim over my arms and he gently entwines his fingers with mine, bringing one of my hands to his mouth so he can kiss it. Then he releases me and slips his hands under the hem of my shirt. He starts at the waist of my jeans and oh so slowly traces my stomach with his fingers. I can feel myself sucking my tummy in under his hands and he laughs softly, teasing me with a touch that's almost tickles but not quite. Then he moves further up, over my chest. Brushing his palms over my nipples, he makes me press forwards into his touch, silently asking for more and he obliges. He takes one between his fingers and pinches it gently. Alternating from side to side, he plays with them until I'm moaning softly and my cock, which was already hard, is pressing eagerly against the fly of my jeans.

Just as I'm about to ask him to do something, anything, he releases them and retraces his path over my torso again. He's moving so slowly that sometimes it almost feels like he's not moving at all. I'm desperate for him to reach his destination and release me from the uncomfortably tight confines of my jeans, but at the same time I don't want this to ever stop. He's so good with his hands. I didn't know I could be this turned on and still be fully dressed.

Finally he reaches my jeans and teasingly dips his fingers just under the waistband before pulling back and deftly unfastening my belt. He doesn't pull it out of the loops, just opens it and leaves it hanging there. Then he traces the line of the zipper, rubbing his palm against the bulge he finds there. I whimper softly and arch up eagerly. He leans forward and licks my ear again.

"You're incredible," he whispers. "So beautiful and so hungry for my touch, I could spend all day just touching you and making you make those wonderful noises."

He pops the button open with a quick flick of his wrist and then eases the zipper over my straining cock. He doesn't try and take my jeans off though or even push them down, just opens them and slides one hand inside.

"Aren't you glad you didn't wear underwear today?" he asks. "Think how frustrating it would be to feel me touching you like this through the cotton of your boxers, so close and yet not able to feel me against your skin."

I shiver again and part of me wishes I hadn't chosen to go without. I can almost feel the delicious friction of his hand brushing up against me through the material. I'm sure he would have loved to tease me before finally letting me feel his hand without the frustrating barrier of the material.

He takes my hard cock in his hand and strokes it once, from the base to the tip and then he squeezes his hand further into the opening, brushing his fingers against my balls. It feels so good, I don't want it to ever end, but I'm so hard right now that I doubt I'll last too long. Moaning softly as he keeps up the teasing touch against my balls, brushing against them in a totally random way, so I can't predict what he'll do and when, I arch up again, thrusting against the cool air desperately.

He chuckles warmly in my ear and then runs one finger along the underside of my cock, mimicking his earlier actions with the drumstick. When he reaches the head he rubs the precome over it, before bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his fingers. I can't see him doing that of course because I still have my eyes closed, but I can feel it and hear it and it's even hotter than seeing it would be.

He takes my cock back in his hand and starts stroking it slowly, making me ache, but not quite hard enough or fast enough to make me come.

"Can you see yourself in your mind, Lucas? See what a debauched picture you make?" he whispers. "We're both fully dressed and your red cock is jutting out from your jeans. Your eyes are closed and your face is flushed. Every inch of your body is pleading with me to give it what it needs so badly. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen. The only thing that could be better is if I was naked while you were still dressed like this. Would you like that? Would you like to feel the warmth of my body through your shirt and know I wasn't wearing anything, that I was totally naked and ready for you while you were still dressed...."

I moan again. God, who knew Joe could ever think of such things, let alone whisper them in my ear, his voice low and dirty as he tells me all the wicked things we could be doing. His hands speeds up on my cock and I thrust into his grip, rushing towards completion but at the same time trying so hard to hold back and make this last.

He slides his other hand back under my shirt and starts pinching and squeezing a nipple roughly. The combination of his hand on my cock, gently stroking as he tries to make me come, and the ache in my nipple as he squeezes it hard between his fingers is enough to break my resolve to stretch this moment out and I come with a shout, shooting my seed over his hand and onto the floor of his office.

He keeps stroking me gently until I starts squirming and whimpering again, the pleasure so intense it's almost becoming pain. Then he stops and pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping his hand clean. I turn my head as much as I can and blink up at him, the lights in the office harsh and too bright after what we just shared, and he looks down at me. He brushes his lips against mine softly and smiles at me, his eyes full of love. The way he touched me and the way he looks at me now are more than enough proof of how he feels. I don't need him to say it; he shows it so well.

"Let's go home," he says quietly. "I want to hold you all night and we can't do that here."

I smile happily at him and nod. "Yes, Joe. Take me home and don't let me go. It's my turn to show you how I feel."


End file.
